Dayglow
by Miss Reanimator
Summary: What lay in the forest beyond the Shire? Nobody knew for sure, though rumour had it that demons lived there, feasting on weary travelers. Of course, a few mischievous Hobbits would want to find out on their own, wouldn't they?


**DAYGLOW  
**_in my world of red, you were a streak of white_

* * *

The forest which lay just beyond the Shire was not quite forbidden territory, though few dared to travel its paths once the sun began to set and shadows crept from the trees and undergrowth. The creatures known as Hobbits were something of a superstitious sort, and whispers among the elders would have it that once night fell the forest came alive with all manner of malicious beings. Just what these beings might be they hadn't any idea, but rumours swelled that those who entered the forest after nightfall would never again see the light of the sun.

Of course, such stories held little merit for the likes of Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. They had each grown up with their mothers warning them of the dangers of treading too closely to the trees after dusk, and it only made them more and more eager to see for themselves just what hid in the darkness.

For years they spoke of someday breaching the treeline, though for the longest time talk was all they did. Perhaps the stories had affected them more than they cared to admit, for every time one suggested that tonight was the night and there would be no better time, well, there always arose an excuse not to. It was not that they were afraid, they told themselves, goodness no. But what good would it do to confront the forest spectres on empty stomaches? Or overly full stomaches? Or when there was better mischief to be had?

The forest waited, almost seeming to hold its breath, for the day the curious Hobbits would come.

And fate would have it that while smoking a long pipe by the roadside one day, Merry had overheard a grandmother weaving a tale to a group of young ones, telling them of ugly nymphs which lived in the trees who would snatch them up for supper if they strayed too far. Merry chuckled around his pipe as he listened.

_This is a sign. We must go tonight!_ he thought to himself as he leapt up and ran off to find his most constant companion.

**oOoOo**

Hushed whispers were quickly exchanged in the privacy of a neighbor's corn field (while helping themselves to a generous portion of vegetables torn right from the Earth, of course) and later the evening saw the pair standing on the road that would lead them to the forest. For the moment they were silent, staring ahead as the trees grew darker with the last glimmers of sunshine fading fast.

When the sun finally gave way to the moon, it was Pippin who spoke first. His voice was calmish, though Merry noted with some amusement a tinge of unease lurking just beneath.

"Time to go, right? Nothing to be frightened of, after all."

Merry nodded, his straight face a mask to hide his own growing apprehension.

"Right you are, Pip," he said. "Let's away and be back before they realize we're gone."

The two took deep, shuddering breaths and pushed forward toward the looming forest. The tallest branches swayed gently in a mild spring breeze, looking like beckoning arms to the weary Hobbits. They walked together slowly, but with purpose, ne'er once taking their eyes off the trees lest they miss any early signs of trouble. Trouble there was none, and within just a few minutes the two men stood well within the treeline, surrounded by all manner of shadowed foliage. There was not a single ugly nymph to be seen, nor ghostly apparition or cloven hooved devils.

They stood and they listened, hearing only the sounds of late birds twittering overhead and leaves rustling in the wind. Shortly, their own cheerful laughter would follow.

"I knew those old cods were pulling our legs all these years!" Merry loudly proclaimed.

"Ay, I never believed a single word of it!" Pippin replied.

"Like hell you didn't! I think you were scared out of your breeches to venture out here." Merry snorted.

The conversation devolved into their usual jests and soon the two Hobbits were wrestling good naturedly, as often happened when they took to these flights of fancy. It was only when Merry had looped his arm around Pippin's neck to subdue him that Pippin first noticed a peculiar shape creeping from the bushes. He quit flailing at once (which Merry took as a sign of submission, and he leaned his head back to laugh heartily) and focused his gaze upon the shape, certain it had to be nothing more than shadows moving in the changing light..

Yet when the being had drawn close enough, Pippin could just make out the shape of arms stretching toward them, looking quite long and misshapen to his eyes, and a crooked grin playing upon the lips of a creature he couldn't quite see but for the darkness. He screamed and pushed back violently against Merry, who only now looked out over Pippin's shoulder and saw the very same beast sauntering toward them. He released Pippin at once with a disbelieving gasp, but as the arms reached for them he met Pippin's scream with his own and turned to flee.

"Run, Pippin! Run quickly!" He yelled as he ran.

Pippin turned but had barely taken a few steps before being felled by an upturned tree root. He clawed at the dirt, panting frantically as he tried to pick himself up, but his feet seemed to tangle and send him right back onto his face.

"Merry, help me!" He called, unsure if his friend could even hear him in his panic.

Soft footsteps closing in beside him bid Pippin to shut his eyes tightly as he muttered helplessly for Merry. He felt the creature kneel beside him, could hear its soft breath, and he waited miserably for whatever horror it had planned, shuddering at the thought of razor claws tearing his flesh and sharp teeth crunching his bones.

He felt neither claws nor teeth, but rather a gentle hand on his back, and he sighed with relief that Merry must have returned for him. Pippin turned over, expecting to see his friend (and perhaps another young buck, for this now seemed a great elaborate prank Merry had pulled) and instead laying eyes on a young lady, no older than he, surely, but perhaps just a bit younger. She was not of the Shire, of this Pippin was quite sure, for a lady so fair would not have gone unnoticed for so long. Her dark hair was longish with two minuscule braids to either side of her face, and bright eyes shown like emeralds from behind elongated bangs tucked away beneath a crown of every colour flower. Her skin was pale, though not sickly so, and seemed to glow faintly in the light of the moon. It was this unusual glow that kept her modest, for Pippin realized quickly that she wore no clothing aside from her crown, and he averted his eyes immediately so as not to offend.

"Did I frighten you? I hadn't intended to."

The woman spoke quietly with a voice like bells, and while it was lovely to the ear, Pippin couldn't help but notice it didn't sound the least bit apologetic. He shook his head as he pushed himself into a seated position. He kept his gaze lowered, feigning interest in a bit of string dislodged from his shirttail.

"Not at all," he mumbled. "Startled, perhaps, but it would take more than that to frighten me."

The woman "hmm'd" and stood, looking toward where Merry had run.

"Your friend is waiting for you. Just by the treeline." She paused, a slight smile taking to her face. "He seems.. startled.. as well. You should go to him. He will die of worry, I think, if you stay here much longer."

Pippin dared a quick glance upward, just enough to see something like sadness pass over the woman.

"It is a shame," she said softly. "We don't get many visitors here. It gets lonely sometimes."

Pippin cautiously rose to his feet, his eyes darting everywhere but to the woman. He wanted desperately to leave, to rejoin Merry and run home before anything terrible happened. Yet another part of him was interested. Was this the devil of the forest? If so, why was it speaking so calmly instead of having him for supper, as the stories had suggested? Pippin cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. Merry could surely wait a few minutes. If nothing else, Pippin would be the one with a good story to tell by dayfall.

"'We?' Are there more of you.. you.. ah.." He dared not call her a devil, lest he insult her, and so he let the sentiment die on his tongue. The woman peered over at him, her face devoid of expression for a moment. Finally, she chuckled a little, and Pippin felt his body loosen in relief.

"Forest nymph," she said with a warm smile. "And, no, there is only myself here. The others have gone to more prosperous grounds. These woods are far too small to accommodate many of us.. They left, but I chose to stay." Pippin fancied he saw a splash of crimson rise in her cheeks. "I enjoy watching your people. At dusk, when I am free to roam, I see your children play by the stream until they are called inside. I see your festivities and your wizard.. the one that brings the sky flowers.."

Longing laced her voice as she turned her gaze to the sky. There were no fireworks this night, only the gleaming stars.

"The trees see everything during the day. They tell me all about it when I awake."

"What do you mean, when you awake?" Pippin was intrigued, and Merry began to slip from his mind. He found he could even look at the woman now, although only directly into her face. He dared not look elsewhere.

"My kind awaken only at night," she explained patiently. "During the day, I sleep within the trees. When the sun begins to fade, I am allowed my freedom. I understand to your people, this has turned my kind into things of malevolence.."

The look of guilt that crossed Pippin's face told her that this was so, but she seemed unphased by the knowledge.

"I do not blame you for fearing that which you do not know," she said. "If I were in your skin, I believe I would feel much the same. You needn't worry, though. I live off the moonlight and the nectar of flowers. I have no taste for Hobbit flesh."

Pippin shook his head eagerly. "I never thought you did. I knew those stories to be false. Merry, maybe, but not I."

At the mention of his name, Pippin realized that Merry must still be waiting for him. That was unless he had gone running back to town screaming of devils and spectres. If the Shire were to go into a panic, would they tear down the forest to finally be rid of their fearsome burden once and for all? Pippin could not bear to have it on his conscience.

"I have to go," he said quickly, drawing a startled look from the woman. "My friend, Merry, will be worried, like you said. But I'll come back. I promise." The words had left his mouth before he even knew he had said them, but he realized he meant it all the same. "You said you were lonely, after all.."

There was a moment of silence between them, and then the woman smiled and nodded. "I would enjoy that."

Pippin grinned and turned to leave, but spared a look over his shoulder after just a step or two.

"What is your name?" he asked. "Mine is Peregrin Took, but my friends just call me Pippin."

"I am Melisande," she replied.

Pippin nodded and ran off to find Merry and tell him of the forest nymph, Melisande, and her friends, the trees, who watched over the Shire with a keen and curious eye..

**oOoOo**

So it was that Pippin visited Melisande the forest nymph whenever the opportunity presented itself. Merry joined them on a few occassions, and once even Frodo Baggins, who hadn't believed in such a thing as forest nymphs before that night, but mostly it was Pippin alone who made the venture into the trees. Although Melisande had never left her little forest, she had a store of fantastic tales that had been woven to her by the birds which roosted in the high branches, and she recited them excitedly to Pippin, who listened with rapt attention. Other times he would entrance her with stories from the Shire, many of which were climaxed by his and Merry's grand schemes.

It was an odd but wonderful friendship, and Melisande felt her heart couldn't possibly swell with more love than it did for Peregrin Took. When the first night of summer came 'round the following year, she had made up her mind to confess herself to him. _And if he does not feel the same?_ she thought, but she found that she could not even bear to think of it. Come what may, she had to say what needed to be said. Melisande sat and awaited him with bated breath, and even the trees seemed eager for her.

Days turned to weeks and weeks dragged into months and Pippin didn't come.

The glow about Melisande had visibly dimmed over the course of time, and her eyes no longer held the same luster they once had. Her chest was heavy with sorrow as she sat in the treetops, looking down into the quiet hills of the Shire, longing for a glimpse of her lost friend, but not a single hair on his head she could see.

_Why has he abandoned me?_


End file.
